// Copyright (C) 2021 Toitware ApS.
// Use of this source code is governed by a Zero-Clause BSD license that can
// be found in the tests/LICENSE file.

main:
  TESTS.do:
    first-line := (it.split "\n")[0]
    print "$(literal-index_ it) - $it.size - $first-line"

TESTS ::= [
  "foo",
  "bar",
  """
Pride and Prejudice

By Jane Austen

Chapter 1

      It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in
      possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.

      However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be
      on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well
      fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is
      considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their
      daughters.

      “My dear Mr. Bennet,” said his lady to him one day, “have you
      heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?”

      Mr. Bennet replied that he had not.

      “But it is,” returned she; “for Mrs. Long has just been here, and
      she told me all about it.”

      Mr. Bennet made no answer.

      “Do not you want to know who has taken it?” cried his wife
      impatiently.

      “_You_ want to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing it.”

      This was invitation enough.

      “Why, my dear, you must know, Mrs. Long says that Netherfield is
      taken by a young man of large fortune from the north of England;
      that he came down on Monday in a chaise and four to see the
      place, and was so much delighted with it that he agreed with Mr.
      Morris immediately; that he is to take possession before
      Michaelmas, and some of his servants are to be in the house by
      the end of next week.”

      “What is his name?”

      “Bingley.”

      “Is he married or single?”

      “Oh! single, my dear, to be sure! A single man of large fortune;
      four or five thousand a year. What a fine thing for our girls!”

      “How so? how can it affect them?”

      “My dear Mr. Bennet,” replied his wife, “how can you be so
      tiresome! You must know that I am thinking of his marrying one of
      them.”

      “Is that his design in settling here?”

      “Design! nonsense, how can you talk so! But it is very likely
      that he _may_ fall in love with one of them, and therefore you
      must visit him as soon as he comes.”

      “I see no occasion for that. You and the girls may go, or you may
      send them by themselves, which perhaps will be still better, for
      as you are as handsome as any of them, Mr. Bingley might like you
      the best of the party.”

      “My dear, you flatter me. I certainly _have_ had my share of
      beauty, but I do not pretend to be anything extraordinary now.
      When a woman has five grown-up daughters, she ought to give over
      thinking of her own beauty.”

      “In such cases, a woman has not often much beauty to think of.”

      “But, my dear, you must indeed go and see Mr. Bingley when he
      comes into the neighbourhood.”

      “It is more than I engage for, I assure you.”

      “But consider your daughters. Only think what an establishment it
      would be for one of them. Sir William and Lady Lucas are
      determined to go, merely on that account, for in general, you
      know, they visit no newcomers. Indeed you must go, for it will be
      impossible for _us_ to visit him, if you do not.”

      “You are over scrupulous, surely. I dare say Mr. Bingley will be
      very glad to see you; and I will send a few lines by you to
      assure him of my hearty consent to his marrying whichever he
      chooses of the girls; though I must throw in a good word for my
      little Lizzy.”

      “I desire you will do no such thing. Lizzy is not a bit better
      than the others; and I am sure she is not half so handsome as
      Jane, nor half so good-humoured as Lydia. But you are always
      giving _her_ the preference.”

      “They have none of them much to recommend them,” replied he;
      “they are all silly and ignorant like other girls; but Lizzy has
      something more of quickness than her sisters.”

      “Mr. Bennet, how can you abuse your own children in such a way?
      You take delight in vexing me. You have no compassion on my poor
      nerves.”

      “You mistake me, my dear. I have a high respect for your nerves.
      They are my old friends. I have heard you mention them with
      consideration these twenty years at least.”

      “Ah, you do not know what I suffer.”

      “But I hope you will get over it, and live to see many young men
      of four thousand a year come into the neighbourhood.”

      “It will be no use to us, if twenty such should come, since you
      will not visit them.”

      “Depend upon it, my dear, that when there are twenty, I will
      visit them all.”

      Mr. Bennet was so odd a mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humour,
      reserve, and caprice, that the experience of three-and-twenty
      years had been insufficient to make his wife understand his
      character. _Her_ mind was less difficult to develop. She was a
      woman of mean understanding, little information, and uncertain
      temper. When she was discontented, she fancied herself nervous.
      The business of her life was to get her daughters married; its
      solace was visiting and news.




Chapter 2

      Mr. Bennet was among the earliest of those who waited on Mr.
      Bingley. He had always intended to visit him, though to the last
      always assuring his wife that he should not go; and till the
      evening after the visit was paid she had no knowledge of it. It
      was then disclosed in the following manner. Observing his second
      daughter employed in trimming a hat, he suddenly addressed her
      with,

      “I hope Mr. Bingley will like it, Lizzy.”

      “We are not in a way to know _what_ Mr. Bingley likes,” said her
      mother resentfully, “since we are not to visit.”

      “But you forget, mamma,” said Elizabeth, “that we shall meet him
      at the assemblies, and that Mrs. Long has promised to introduce him.”

      “I do not believe Mrs. Long will do any such thing. She has two
      nieces of her own. She is a selfish, hypocritical woman, and I
      have no opinion of her.”

      “No more have I,” said Mr. Bennet; “and I am glad to find that
      you do not depend on her serving you.”

      Mrs. Bennet deigned not to make any reply; but, unable to contain
      herself, began scolding one of her daughters.

      “Don’t keep coughing so, Kitty, for heaven’s sake! Have a little
      compassion on my nerves. You tear them to pieces.”

      “Kitty has no discretion in her coughs,” said her father; “she
      times them ill.”

      “I do not cough for my own amusement,” replied Kitty fretfully.
      “When is your next ball to be, Lizzy?”

      “To-morrow fortnight.”

      “Aye, so it is,” cried her mother, “and Mrs. Long does not come
      back till the day before; so, it will be impossible for her to
      introduce him, for she will not know him herself.”

      “Then, my dear, you may have the advantage of your friend, and
      introduce Mr. Bingley to _her_.”

      “Impossible, Mr. Bennet, impossible, when I am not acquainted
      with him myself; how can you be so teasing?”

      “I honour your circumspection. A fortnight’s acquaintance is
      certainly very little. One cannot know what a man really is by
      the end of a fortnight. But if _we_ do not venture somebody else
      will; and after all, Mrs. Long and her nieces must stand their
      chance; and, therefore, as she will think it an act of kindness,
      if you decline the office, I will take it on myself.”

      The girls stared at their father. Mrs. Bennet said only,
      “Nonsense, nonsense!”

      “What can be the meaning of that emphatic exclamation?” cried he.
      “Do you consider the forms of introduction, and the stress that
      is laid on them, as nonsense? I cannot quite agree with you
      _there_. What say you, Mary? for you are a young lady of deep
      reflection, I know, and read great books and make extracts.”

      Mary wished to say something very sensible, but knew not how.

      “While Mary is adjusting her ideas,” he continued, “let us return
      to Mr. Bingley.”

      “I am sick of Mr. Bingley,” cried his wife.

      “I am sorry to hear _that_; but why did not you tell me so
      before? If I had known as much this morning, I certainly would not
      have called on him. It is very unlucky; but as I have actually
      paid the visit, we cannot escape the acquaintance now.”

      The astonishment of the ladies was just what he wished; that of
      Mrs. Bennet perhaps surpassing the rest; though when the first
      tumult of joy was over, she began to declare that it was what she
      had expected all the while.

      “How good it was in you, my dear Mr. Bennet! But I knew I should
      persuade you at last. I was sure you loved your girls too well to
      neglect such an acquaintance. Well, how pleased I am! and it is
      such a good joke, too, that you should have gone this morning, and
      never said a word about it till now.”

      “Now, Kitty, you may cough as much as you choose,” said Mr.
      Bennet; and, as he spoke, he left the room, fatigued with the
      raptures of his wife.

      “What an excellent father you have, girls,” said she, when the
      door was shut. “I do not know how you will ever make him amends
      for his kindness; or me either, for that matter. At our time of
      life, it is not so pleasant, I can tell you, to be making new
      acquaintance every day; but for your sakes, we would do
      anything. Lydia, my love, though you _are_ the youngest, I dare
      say Mr. Bingley will dance with you at the next ball.”

      “Oh!” said Lydia stoutly, “I am not afraid; for though I _am_ the
      youngest, I’m the tallest.”

      The rest of the evening was spent in conjecturing how soon he
      would return Mr. Bennet’s visit, and determining when they should
      ask him to dinner.




Chapter 3

      Not all that Mrs. Bennet, however, with the assistance of her
      five daughters, could ask on the subject, was sufficient to draw
      from her husband any satisfactory description of Mr. Bingley.
      They attacked him in various ways; with barefaced questions,
      ingenious suppositions, and distant surmises; but he eluded the
      skill of them all; and they were at last obliged to accept the
      second-hand intelligence of their neighbour, Lady Lucas. Her
      report was highly favourable. Sir William had been delighted with
      him. He was quite young, wonderfully handsome, extremely
      agreeable, and, to crown the whole, he meant to be at the next
      assembly with a large party. Nothing could be more delightful! To
      be fond of dancing was a certain step towards falling in love;
      and very lively hopes of Mr. Bingley’s heart were entertained.

      “If I can but see one of my daughters happily settled at
      Netherfield,” said Mrs. Bennet to her husband, “and all the
      others equally well married, I shall have nothing to wish for.”

      In a few days Mr. Bingley returned Mr. Bennet’s visit, and sat
      about ten minutes with him in his library. He had entertained
      hopes of being admitted to a sight of the young ladies, of whose
      beauty he had heard much; but he saw only the father. The ladies
      were somewhat more fortunate, for they had the advantage of
      ascertaining from an upper window, that he wore a blue coat and
      rode a black horse.

      An invitation to dinner was soon afterwards dispatched; and
      already had Mrs. Bennet planned the courses that were to do
      credit to her housekeeping, when an answer arrived which deferred
      it all. Mr. Bingley was obliged to be in town the following day,
      and consequently unable to accept the honour of their
      invitation, etc. Mrs. Bennet was quite disconcerted. She could
      not imagine what business he could have in town so soon after his
      arrival in Hertfordshire; and she began to fear that he might be
      always flying about from one place to another, and never settled
      at Netherfield as he ought to be. Lady Lucas quieted her fears a
      little by starting the idea of his being gone to London only to
      get a large party for the ball; and a report soon followed that
      Mr. Bingley was to bring twelve ladies and seven gentlemen with
      him to the assembly. The girls grieved over such a number of
      ladies; but were comforted the day before the ball by hearing,
      that instead of twelve, he had brought only six with him from
      London, his five sisters and a cousin. And when the party entered
      the assembly room it consisted of only five altogether; Mr.
      Bingley, his two sisters, the husband of the eldest, and another
      young man.

      Mr. Bingley was good-looking and gentlemanlike; he had a pleasant
      countenance, and easy, unaffected manners. His sisters were fine
      women, with an air of decided fashion. His brother-in-law, Mr.
      Hurst, merely looked the gentleman; but his friend Mr. Darcy soon
      drew the attention of the room by his fine, tall person, handsome
      features, noble mien, and the report which was in general
      circulation within five minutes after his entrance, of his having
      ten thousand a year. The gentlemen pronounced him to be a fine
      figure of a man, the ladies declared he was much handsomer than
      Mr. Bingley, and he was looked at with great admiration for about
      half the evening, till his manners gave a disgust which turned
      the tide of his popularity; for he was discovered to be proud, to
      be above his company, and above being pleased; and not all his
      large estate in Derbyshire could then save him from having a most
      forbidding, disagreeable countenance, and being unworthy to be
      compared with his friend.

      Mr. Bingley had soon made himself acquainted with all the
      principal people in the room; he was lively and unreserved,
      danced every dance, was angry that the ball closed so early, and
      talked of giving one himself at Netherfield. Such amiable
      qualities must speak for themselves. What a contrast between him
      and his friend! Mr. Darcy danced only once with Mrs. Hurst and
      once with Miss Bingley, declined being introduced to any other
      lady, and spent the rest of the evening in walking about the
      room, speaking occasionally to one of his own party. His
      character was decided. He was the proudest, most disagreeable man
      in the world, and everybody hoped that he would never come there
      again. Amongst the most violent against him was Mrs. Bennet,
      whose dislike of his general behaviour was sharpened into
      particular resentment by his having slighted one of her
      daughters.

      Elizabeth Bennet had been obliged, by the scarcity of gentlemen,
      to sit down for two dances; and during part of that time, Mr.
      Darcy had been standing near enough for her to overhear a
      conversation between him and Mr. Bingley, who came from the dance
      for a few minutes, to press his friend to join it.

      “Come, Darcy,” said he, “I must have you dance. I hate to see you
      standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much
      better dance.”

      “I certainly shall not. You know how I detest it, unless I am
      particularly acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as
      this, it would be insupportable. Your sisters are engaged, and
      there is not another woman in the room whom it would not be a
      punishment to me to stand up with.”

      “I would not be so fastidious as you are,” cried Bingley,
      “for a kingdom! Upon my honour, I never met with so many pleasant
      girls in my life as I have this evening; and there are several of
      them you see uncommonly pretty.”

      “_You_ are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room,” said
      Mr. Darcy, looking at the eldest Miss Bennet.

      “Oh! she is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! But there
      is one of her sisters sitting down just behind you, who is very
      pretty, and I dare say very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner
      to introduce you.”

      “Which do you mean?” and turning round, he looked for a moment at
      Elizabeth, till catching her eye, he withdrew his own and coldly
      said, “She is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt _me_; and I
      am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies
      who are slighted by other men. You had better return to your
      partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with
      me.”

      Mr. Bingley followed his advice. Mr. Darcy walked off; and
      Elizabeth remained with no very cordial feelings towards him. She
      told the story, however, with great spirit among her friends; for
      she had a lively, playful disposition, which delighted in
      anything ridiculous.

      The evening altogether passed off pleasantly to the whole family.
      Mrs. Bennet had seen her eldest daughter much admired by the
      Netherfield party. Mr. Bingley had danced with her twice, and she
      had been distinguished by his sisters. Jane was as much gratified
      by this as her mother could be, though in a quieter way.
      Elizabeth felt Jane’s pleasure. Mary had heard herself mentioned
      to Miss Bingley as the most accomplished girl in the
      neighbourhood; and Catherine and Lydia had been fortunate enough
      to be never without partners, which was all that they had yet
      learnt to care for at a ball. They returned, therefore, in good
      spirits to Longbourn, the village where they lived, and of which
      they were the principal inhabitants. They found Mr. Bennet still
      up. With a book he was regardless of time; and on the present
      occasion he had a good deal of curiosity as to the event of an
      evening which had raised such splendid expectations. He had
      rather hoped that all his wife’s views on the stranger would be
      disappointed; but he soon found that he had a very different story
      to hear.

      “Oh, my dear Mr. Bennet,” as she entered the room, “we have had a
      most delightful evening, a most excellent ball. I wish you had
      been there. Jane was so admired, nothing could be like it.
      Everybody said how well she looked; and Mr. Bingley thought her
      quite beautiful, and danced with her twice. Only think of _that_,
      my dear; he actually danced with her twice; and she was the only
      creature in the room that he asked a second time. First of all,
      he asked Miss Lucas. I was so vexed to see him stand up with her;
      but, however, he did not admire her at all; indeed, nobody can,
      you know; and he seemed quite struck with Jane as she was going
      down the dance. So he enquired who she was, and got introduced,
      and asked her for the two next. Then, the two third he danced with
      Miss King, and the two fourth with Maria Lucas, and the two fifth
      with Jane again, and the two sixth with Lizzy, and the
      _Boulanger_—”

      “If he had had any compassion for _me_,” cried her husband
      impatiently, “he would not have danced half so much! For God’s
      sake, say no more of his partners. Oh that he had sprained his
      ankle in the first dance!”

      “Oh! my dear,” continued Mrs. Bennet, “I am quite delighted with him. He is so excessively
      handsome! and his sisters are charming women. I never in my life
      saw anything more elegant than their dresses. I dare say the lace
      upon Mrs. Hurst’s gown—”

      Here she was interrupted again. Mr. Bennet protested against any
      description of finery. She was therefore obliged to seek another
      branch of the subject, and related, with much bitterness of
      spirit and some exaggeration, the shocking rudeness of Mr. Darcy.

      “But I can assure you,” she added, “that Lizzy does not lose much
      by not suiting _his_ fancy; for he is a most disagreeable, horrid
      man, not at all worth pleasing. So high and so conceited that
      there was no enduring him! He walked here, and he walked there,
      fancying himself so very great! Not handsome enough to dance
      with! I wish you had been there, my dear, to have given him one
      of your set-downs. I quite detest the man.”




Chapter 4

      When Jane and Elizabeth were alone, the former, who had been
      cautious in her praise of Mr. Bingley before, expressed to her
      sister how very much she admired him.

      “He is just what a young man ought to be,” said she, “sensible,
      good-humoured, lively; and I never saw such happy manners!—so
      much ease, with such perfect good breeding!”

      “He is also handsome,” replied Elizabeth, “which a young man
      ought likewise to be, if he possibly can. His character is
      thereby complete.”

      “I was very much flattered by his asking me to dance a second
      time. I did not expect such a compliment.”

      “Did not you? _I_ did for you. But that is one great difference
      between us. Compliments always take _you_ by surprise, and _me_
      never. What could be more natural than his asking you again? He
      could not help seeing that you were about five times as pretty as
      every other woman in the room. No thanks to his gallantry for
      that. Well, he certainly is very agreeable, and I give you leave
      to like him. You have liked many a stupider person.”

      “Dear Lizzy!”

      “Oh! you are a great deal too apt, you know, to like people in
      general. You never see a fault in anybody. All the world are good
      and agreeable in your eyes. I never heard you speak ill of a
      human being in my life.”

      “I would wish not to be hasty in censuring any one; but I always
      speak what I think.”

      “I know you do; and it is _that_ which makes the wonder. With
      _your_ good sense, to be so honestly blind to the follies and
      nonsense of others! Affectation of candour is common enough;—one
      meets with it everywhere. But to be candid without ostentation or
      design—to take the good of everybody’s character and make it
      still better, and say nothing of the bad—belongs to you alone.
      And so, you like this man’s sisters, too, do you? Their manners
      are not equal to his.”

      “Certainly not; at first. But they are very pleasing women when
      you converse with them. Miss Bingley is to live with her brother,
      and keep his house; and I am much mistaken if we shall not find a
      very charming neighbour in her.”

      Elizabeth listened in silence, but was not convinced; their
      behaviour at the assembly had not been calculated to please in
      general; and with more quickness of observation and less pliancy
      of temper than her sister, and with a judgment too unassailed by
      any attention to herself, she was very little disposed to approve
      them. They were in fact very fine ladies; not deficient in good
      humour when they were pleased, nor in the power of
      being agreeable where they chose it; but proud and conceited.
      They were rather handsome, had been educated in one of the first
      private seminaries in town, had a fortune of twenty thousand
      pounds, were in the habit of spending more than they ought, and
      of associating with people of rank; and were therefore in every
      respect entitled to think well of themselves, and meanly of
      others. They were of a respectable family in the north of
      England; a circumstance more deeply impressed on their memories
      than that their brother’s fortune and their own had been acquired
      by trade.

      Mr. Bingley inherited property to the amount of nearly a hundred
      thousand pounds from his father, who had intended to purchase an
      estate, but did not live to do it. Mr. Bingley intended it
      likewise, and sometimes made choice of his county; but as he was
      now provided with a good house and the liberty of a manor, it was
      doubtful to many of those who best knew the easiness of his
      temper, whether he might not spend the remainder of his days at
      Netherfield, and leave the next generation to purchase.

      His sisters were very anxious for his having an estate of his own;
      but though he was now established only as a tenant, Miss Bingley
      was by no means unwilling to preside at his table, nor was Mrs.
      Hurst, who had married a man of more fashion than fortune, less
      disposed to consider his house as her home when it suited her.
      Mr. Bingley had not been of age two years, when he was tempted by
      an accidental recommendation to look at Netherfield House. He did
      look at it, and into it for half an hour, was pleased with the
      situation and the principal rooms, satisfied with what the owner
      said in its praise, and took it immediately.

      Between him and Darcy there was a very steady friendship, in
      spite of great opposition of character. Bingley was endeared to
      Darcy by the easiness, openness, and ductility of his temper,
      though no disposition could offer a greater contrast to his own,
      and though with his own he never appeared dissatisfied. On the
      strength of Darcy’s regard Bingley had the firmest reliance, and
      of his judgment the highest opinion. In understanding, Darcy was
      the superior. Bingley was by no means deficient, but Darcy was
      clever. He was at the same time haughty, reserved, and
      fastidious, and his manners, though well bred, were not inviting.
      In that respect his friend had greatly the advantage. Bingley was
      sure of being liked wherever he appeared, Darcy was continually
      giving offence.

      The manner in which they spoke of the Meryton assembly was
      sufficiently characteristic. Bingley had never met with
      pleasanter people or prettier girls in his life; everybody had been
      most kind and attentive to him; there had been no formality, no
      stiffness; he had soon felt acquainted with all the room; and as
      to Miss Bennet, he could not conceive an angel more beautiful.
      Darcy, on the contrary, had seen a collection of people in whom
      there was little beauty and no fashion, for none of whom he had
      felt the smallest interest, and from none received either
      attention or pleasure. Miss Bennet he acknowledged to be pretty,
      but she smiled too much.

      Mrs. Hurst and her sister allowed it to be so—but still they
      admired her and liked her, and pronounced her to be a sweet girl,
      and one whom they should not object to know more of. Miss Bennet
      was therefore established as a sweet girl, and their brother felt
      authorised by such commendation to think of her as he chose.




Chapter 5

      Within a short walk of Longbourn lived a family with whom the
      Bennets were particularly intimate. Sir William Lucas had been
      formerly in trade in Meryton, where he had made a tolerable
      fortune, and risen to the honour of knighthood by an address to
      the king during his mayoralty. The distinction had perhaps been
      felt too strongly. It had given him a disgust to his business
      and to his residence in a small market town; and, quitting
      them both, he had removed with his family to a house about a mile
      from Meryton, denominated from that period Lucas Lodge, where he
      could think with pleasure of his own importance, and, unshackled
      by business, occupy himself solely in being civil to all the
      world. For, though elated by his rank, it did not render him
      supercilious; on the contrary, he was all attention to everybody.
      By nature inoffensive, friendly, and obliging, his presentation
      at St. James’s had made him courteous.

      Lady Lucas was a very good kind of woman, not too clever to be a
      valuable neighbour to Mrs. Bennet. They had several children. The
      eldest of them, a sensible, intelligent young woman, about
      twenty-seven, was Elizabeth’s intimate friend.

      That the Miss Lucases and the Miss Bennets should meet to talk
      over a ball was absolutely necessary; and the morning after the
      assembly brought the former to Longbourn to hear and to
      communicate.

      “_You_ began the evening well, Charlotte,” said Mrs. Bennet with
      civil self-command to Miss Lucas. “_You_ were Mr. Bingley’s first
      choice.”

      “Yes; but he seemed to like his second better.”

      “Oh! you mean Jane, I suppose, because he danced with her twice.
      To be sure that _did_ seem as if he admired her—indeed I rather
      believe he _did_—I heard something about it—but I hardly know
      what—something about Mr. Robinson.”

      “Perhaps you mean what I overheard between him and Mr. Robinson;
      did not I mention it to you? Mr. Robinson’s asking him how he
      liked our Meryton assemblies, and whether he did not think there
      were a great many pretty women in the room, and _which_ he
      thought the prettiest? and his answering immediately to the last
      question—‘Oh! the eldest Miss Bennet, beyond a doubt, there
      cannot be two opinions on that point.’”

      “Upon my word! Well, that was very decided indeed—that does seem
      as if—but, however, it may all come to nothing, you know.”

      “_My_ overhearings were more to the purpose than _yours_, Eliza,”
      said Charlotte. “Mr. Darcy is not so well worth listening to as
      his friend, is he?—Poor Eliza!—to be only just _tolerable_.”

      “I beg you would not put it into Lizzy’s head to be vexed by his
      ill-treatment, for he is such a disagreeable man that it would
      be quite a misfortune to be liked by him. Mrs. Long told me last
      night that he sat close to her for half an hour without once
      opening his lips.”

      “Are you quite sure, ma’am?—is not there a little mistake?” said
      Jane. “I certainly saw Mr. Darcy speaking to her.”

      “Aye—because she asked him at last how he liked Netherfield, and
      he could not help answering her; but she said he seemed very
      angry at being spoke to.”

      “Miss Bingley told me,” said Jane, “that he never speaks much
      unless among his intimate acquaintance. With _them_ he is
      remarkably agreeable.”

      “I do not believe a word of it, my dear. If he had been so very
      agreeable, he would have talked to Mrs. Long. But I can guess how
      it was; everybody says that he is eat up with pride, and I dare
      say he had heard somehow that Mrs. Long does not keep a carriage,
      and had come to the ball in a hack chaise.”

      “I do not mind his not talking to Mrs. Long,” said Miss Lucas,
      “but I wish he had danced with Eliza.”

      “Another time, Lizzy,” said her mother, “I would not dance with
      _him_, if I were you.”

      “I believe, ma’am, I may safely promise you _never_ to dance with
      him.”

      “His pride,” said Miss Lucas, “does not offend _me_ so much as
      pride often does, because there is an excuse for it. One cannot
      wonder that so very fine a young man, with family, fortune,
      everything in his favour, should think highly of himself. If I
      may so express it, he has a _right_ to be proud.”

      “That is very true,” replied Elizabeth, “and I could easily
      forgive _his_ pride, if he had not mortified _mine_.”

      “Pride,” observed Mary, who piqued herself upon the solidity of
      her reflections, “is a very common failing, I believe. By all
      that I have ever read, I am convinced that it is very common
      indeed; that human nature is particularly prone to it, and that
      there are very few of us who do not cherish a feeling of
      self-complacency on the score of some quality or other, real or
      imaginary. Vanity and pride are different things, though the
      words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without
      being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves,
      vanity to what we would have others think of us.”

      “If I were as rich as Mr. Darcy,” cried a young Lucas, who came
      with his sisters, “I should not care how proud I was. I would
      keep a pack of foxhounds, and drink a bottle of wine every day.”

      “Then you would drink a great deal more than you ought,” said
      Mrs. Bennet; “and if I were to see you at it, I should take away
      your bottle directly.”

      The boy protested that she should not; she continued to declare
      that she would, and the argument ended only with the visit.
  """,
]
